Letters
by blazedsun
Summary: Uchicha writes notes to an old teammate while he is gone. What will this lead up to for the both of them? Does Sasuke feel more for his teammate than meets the eyes?


A small drabble, sorry if it doesn'y make sense. I had to take a break from writing Dare to Dream. There's another upcoming oneshot, which will surely be better written than this one, concerning the Naruto movie.

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It had been a long while since he left. It was also unnerving to watch others continue on with their lived as if he had never walked the tidy streets of Konoha. How could they not notice he was gone? How could she be the only one who sat on that same bench waiting for him to return?

It wasn't as if she knew he was coming back. The truth was that she had lost all hope of his return. Though she continued to sit there every night out of habit, her restless heart burning with regret. If she had said other things to him, would he have stayed? If she had grown stronger before he incident, would he have felt something more than just a small friendship? The boy, now a young man, actually thought of her intriguing; he never told her what she did to him, it would have destroyed his whole goal in life.

How then, had he abandoned her? Was he so cruel as to ignore this bottomless pit feeling in his stomach and run from the one thing that could save him? He did not know himself until years later. Once he had achieved his first ambition, he decided, he would return to her and tell her.

Sasuke was a man of few words. How could he not be with his gory past. What others never knew was that behind that icy stare there is a poetic mind waiting to express itself in any form possible. Of course the only way possible was not in words, but physically. Whether it be protecting another from danger, a single wave, or even a ghost of a smile, everything was put on show. It was the person receiving the gesture who had to interpret his subtle actions. Because it was hard to fluently express what was on his mind, he would write everything down. Words were better for him if they were written. They could be changed, erased, mixed around, crossed out, and any other form of fixing he could think of. It was in these letters he wrote that she began to realize also. That he had cared.

Sakura didn't know from where he was sending these notes. All she knew was that they made her day brighter. Each day came a new one sitting on that same bench, some was short (the usually were actually) and some were long (these were rare). Each had their own meaning behind them and she could reread them fifty times a day if she had to remind herself that these letters were real and not a figment of her imagination. Sometimes she would get the mail for a few days, sometimes a week, but every time that happened, the notes he sent her would explain everything that happened those days he missed. Soon she realized something. He cared.

Overtime the letters grew longer still; they were no longer the short sentences that might say the simplest things. (The shortest one she ever got said that he never got tomatoes where he stayed) So it was surprising to her when she received a note only three words long: I'm going home.

Sakura nearly died of exploded happiness. This was it! Her one and only love was finally coming home. Could it be possible it was a trap? That was what Kakashi had suggested once she had confessed him of her secret correspondent. No, she thought, Sasuke would never do something like that.

Nonetheless of all the warnings, she continued to sit on that nameless bench, looking to the West to watch the sunset while she waited. Patiently observing the tints of pink, red, and blue; all blending into one, she waited.

It was until one evening, when her mind could no longer buzz with thoughts that she drifted to a light slumber only to be awakened by the one man whom she wished to see for seven years.

"Sasuke-kun," was all she said before he enveloped her in his arms, kneeling on the floor before her and murmuring into her ear.

"I said I would come home."

"Why?"

"That man is dead. I don't need to live in the past anymore-"

With those spoken words, Sakura found the same old Sasuke who was caressing her hair as if she were a fragile doll. There was never a change in him. Never was a Sasuke who had betrayed his village and friends. Never was there a Sasuke who turned cruel or so weak he would never find feelings. There was always the Sasuke who was deeply engraved in her heart. The one who was passionate in all that he did, who would never give up, who could break down at any moment in tears, who could joke discreetly and smile when he thought no one was looking.

"Will you leave me again?" She spoke to him awkwardly, almost speechless that Sasuke would hold her so closely and handle her as gently as someone would with a bird with a broken wing. The raven-haired young man sighed, still pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

"I never left you."

He whispered with such tenderness and with such love, Sakura knew that he had found love for the first time in twelve years.


End file.
